"He's alive! He's alive!"

Sirius was the one who'd called the impromptu Order meeting, once again seeing the group convene at their usual spot in the castle. He'd considered holding back on the announcement, perhaps opting to keep his emotions in check. But the joy and renewed faith circling through his body was too powerful a force to hold back, spilling out in his impassioned declaration whilst the others busied themselves with sitting down in their chairs.

The rushed timing of his words meant that plenty of the Order were caught unawares. Many of them were giving him odd looks, as if they didn't dare believe him or they thought he'd finally lost his mind. Remus eyed him warily, forever the more cautious of the pair. Hagrid had jumped up immediately, knocking his seat to the floor loudly. Molly once again was crying, but the tears this time seemed to be happy ones. Dumbledore evidently refused to get his hopes up, hovering by his chair, as if moving would break the illusion.

Sirius knew that it was entirely possible that he had lost his marbles at long last. He'd been on his own, delving into self pity, when the mirror had buzzed. With him being so sleep deprived, he'd been convinced that Harry's voice had been a painful illusion, his brain conjuring up a scathing mirage that was solely designed to torture him. But then Harry had spoken again, Sirius was sure of it, regardless of the fact that no response had come when he'd shouted into the device.

"Sirius…" Remus said slowly. "What are you talking about?"

In answer, he slammed the two-way mirror onto the table, as if that would be enough to explain everything, to explain his hyperactive tendencies. That was forgetting the fact that no one in the room, besides the werewolf, had any clue what the object was or what it was designed for. To them, he'd simply presented the group with a shard of glass, further pouring fuel on the fire as to the suspicions of his deteriorating psyche.

"This is a communication device," he told them, his words coming out quickly as he scrambled to get to his point. "There are only two of them in the world. I own one, and I gave its partner to Harry as a birthday present. That way, we can speak to one another without having to shove our heads into a fire. From experience, that's not a comfortable alternative."

Remus placed a hand on his shoulder, doing his best to calm him down. "Sirius, you're rambling. We're growing concerned about your wellbeing. Perhaps a visit to Madam Pomfrey is in order."

"I've always been worried about his mental state, if that's any consolation," Snape retorted. "I'd like that put on record."

"I'm too happy to even care about anything you say, you greasy bat," Sirius replied. "Because Harry's alive! He spoke into the mirror! He was trying to reach out to me!"

Hagrid banged his large fist on the table. "I knew that boy wouldn't go down without a fight!"

Remus' eyes, however, conveyed a careful response as he stared at his old friend. "You're sure about this?"

"I wouldn't make something like this up!" Sirius argued.

"I'm not saying that you would, not directly. But the anguish you're going through…it's the sort of circumstances that could prompt your mind to create something that didn't really happen."

"I've already considered that possibility?"

"And?"

"And I've decided to ignore it. Because this is the first scrap of hope I've been able to grab hold of since he was taken."

"Were you able to talk to him?" Arthur asked.

"No," Sirius admitted, and he could see some of their expressions fall, like that confirmed he'd imagined the entire thing. "By the time I got to the mirror, he wasn't responding. There's every chance that he was worried he'd been spotted. He must be trying to keep this as a secret, giving us just enough to keep fighting."

"Have you tried calling him since?" Moody wondered.

"I don't want to risk it. What if he's got the mirror tucked away on his person, and then my voice starts bleating through? He'd have the mirror confiscated as a start, and he'd probably end up getting punished for his insolence. No, I think it's best if we leave this in his hands, allow him to make the next move."

Molly shook her head. "Is there time to be waiting, though? That might be the only message he's able to send through. We could be standing around that mirror, waiting for it to chime, whilst they…they…well, I'm not going to even put it into words."

"There's still not a lot to go on. He only said my name, nothing more. If he gets a second chance, he might be able to tell us where he is."

Snape folded his arms. "If you're telling the truth - and it's a big if - then the likelihood is that Potter himself doesn't know his location. He was probably unconscious during the transportation process. He might be as clueless as we are, meaning he can't shed any further light on what we need to do or where we need to go."

"It might help if you had some success with your Death Eater chums."

"Despite the increase in the number of supporters that have come to his call, particularly after the Azkaban debacle, Lord Voldemort seems to have kept his circle a tight one for this operation. The few minor players I've reached out to have proven to be fruitless sources, with the occasional obliviation covering my tracks. It would seem that, to reduce the risk of losing once again, the Dark Lord is only entrusting his most devoted followers."

"Aren't you supposed to be in that bracket?"

"Rebuilding my reputation with Voldemort will take time if I am to be of much use as a spy."

"What's the point of having a spy after Harry's been killed? The fight will be over with by that point."

"Be that as it may, Voldemort certainly doesn't trust me enough to invite me to whatever location he is currently residing in."

"Then reach out to some of the big hitters! We know who they are. Bellatrix will be acting as his shadow. We know that Crouch Junior has played a key role in bringing him back. And Lucius Malfoy has, for all intents and purposes, thrown all his eggs into the Dark Lord basket."

"The precise people who'd immediately tell their master what I was doing. I know you won't care about his suspicions resulting in my death, Black, but if he believes we're closing in, he'll gloss over whatever has been stalling him and kill the boy immediately."

Sirius gritted his teeth, knowing that Snape had a point. Such an admission was almost powerful enough to deter his previously lifted spirits. He looked towards Dumbledore, who had still barely moved since the meeting had properly got underway. It was clear to see that the headmaster still had his doubts, irrespective of the way his eyes were subtly gleaming at the prospect of Harry still somehow being alive and well.

"I'm telling the truth," he promised, hoping his impassioned approach would be enough to persuade the older man. "Harry did contact me. And I think you're in the same position as I am. You'd know deep down if Harry was dead. There'd be a shift in the world."

"And Tom would have been parading the news as soon as it happened, telling society that no one could stand in his way any longer," Dumbledore reasoned. "I choose to have faith in both Harry and Sirius."

"Thank you."

"Have you told Miss Granger about this development?"

Sirius bowed his head. "I came straight here. And…I'm not sure whether it would be a good thing to give her a false sense of hope."

"Isn't that precisely what you've been relying on?" Remus fired at him.

"I reckon it's precisely what she needs!" Hagrid argued. "She's a shadow of herself at the moment."

"It's true," McGonagall added. "Her participation in lessons has seen a marked decline. I've been caught between wanting to provide whatever reassurances I can give and allowing her the space to process her grief."

"She visited my hut the other night. You know, for tea and rock cakes, that sort of thing. The issue was that there were two aching absences in the room, and you couldn't ignore that. I doubt I was very good company for her, in truth."

"I've said from the start that she should have been included in these meetings," Remus reasoned.

"She's just a girl!" Molly was quick to say. "A young girl. This isn't the sort of work she should be worrying about."

"She's technically a member of the Order. We agreed to that before their fifth year, and she's only become more mature since. She's had to do a lot of growing up. This is just the latest in a long line of bad cards she's been dealt with. Actively working to help us could, in turn, help her."

Sirius was nodding slowly "I'll…I'll speak to her. If only because I know she's the sort of person who'll go to Harry's rescue, with or without us."

xxxxxxxxxx

Harry wanted to close his eyes in apprehension, but told himself to be brave in the face of adversity. Karstark's wand was his opponent and he was powerless to stop the witch from doing whatever she wanted. The memory of what she'd done last time, her magic tearing through his body, was one he didn't want to relive. And yet he barely had room to flinch as the process started once again, Harry acting as the guinea pig in her cruel experiment.

Except, this time around, the flow of power was almost a comforting presence. As it enveloped him, it felt warm and friendly. He could even feel himself growing stronger, as if the magic was replacing all the meals he'd surely missed whilst in the void of time that was his prison cell. Karstark's gaze never left him as the event unfolded, enough to still unnerve him, enough to make him suspicious of her actions. No matter how nice it was to experience.

He was left panting by the time it came to an end, and he was disappointed that it had done. There was still no chance of him breaking free from his bonds, but it was nice to no longer be sapped of energy. And there Karstark was, still watching him, still giving nothing away as to what her goals were. He began to wonder whether the rug was about to be pulled from underneath him, whether improving his wellbeing was just designed to make it hurt even more when she sent him crashing back down to reality.

"What…was that?" he asked.

"You're not going to be much use to me if you're weak," she answered. "You need your wits about you."

"What for?"

"That's still to be decided."

"You're…you're here to remove the horcrux, aren't you? That's what you said. That's what has delayed everything. I should be thanking you in that sense."

"I won't accept gratitude." She looked at their surroundings. "How you can still have any positivity in your body right now…you're a perplexing conundrum, Harry Potter."

"...thanks?"

Her hand reached out to him and he automatically flinched. She paused upon sensing his fear, hesitated a beat longer, and then continued. Karstark's fingers grazed against his cheek, tangled through his hair softly, and inspected his scar softly. Harry found himself savouring the touch, his eyes drifting close as if her fingertips were imbued with that same warm energy, comforting his very soul without an incantation needing to be uttered.

"There is so much darkness within you. Your skin burns with its mark."

"The horcrux?"

"I'm afraid so. If it's any comfort, the one who did this to you looked just as surprised at the news."

"I guess that's something, hey?"

"Were you surprised?"

"I…I don't know," Harry admitted. "It's not as if I knew before you said anything. But it also…makes sense, you know? I've had a connection to Voldemort since that night, and having an accidental horcrux within me explains that. Not that it's good news. There's only so many ways you can destroy a horcrux, and pretty much all of them result in the carrier being destroyed. Maybe being locked up has helped me come to terms with that. My story has always been leading to this point. At least the people I care about won't have to see it happen if I'm stuck here."

"How do you know so much about horcruxes?"

"I shouldn't say."

"Why not?"

"Because…"

"Because I'm working for Voldemort?"

Harry sighed. "Yeah. You've hit the nail on the head."

"Are you worried that I'm going to give him all the details of our chat?"

"Well…now I am, yeah."

She moved ever so slightly away and Harry shouldn't have been as disappointed as he was by the sudden gap between them. It was a confusing moment. Because she was in league with the man hell bent on seeing him dead. So how did she make him feel so at ease? Perhaps that had been the point to her earlier spell, leaving him more malleable and agreeable to her whims.

"Why don't you ask me a question?"

"What question?"

Karstark shrugged. "I can tell you have a burning one to put to me."

Harry thought about it for a few moments. "How do you know so much about horcruxes? How were you able to sense it in me when everyone else has missed it?"

He felt like it was a good point. After all, they'd had to scour the back pages of some of the most obscure and darkest books ever put to print, just to get a few meagre facts about horcruxes. And, even then, most of their knowledge had stemmed from the memories of a former professor who should have kept his mouth shut. It started the warning bell ringing in Harry's head, telling him that his present company was an expert in twisted magic. It explained the 'friends' she kept.

"Those are two separate questions," she replied.

He got the vague sense that she was testing him in a manner that was all too familiar. Karstark was wanting to see which direction he went in, suggesting that there was a right way to lead the conversation. If he proved to her that he could figure that out, would she let him go? Would she at least let him experience whatever voodoo she'd done to him just moments before? Harry had thought that he'd gotten past such mental gymnastics after Matthew's passing.

"You picked up on the horcrux straight away. How did you manage that?"

She smirked, which he hoped meant he'd made the correct choice. "Some people have an affinity for magical auras and I'm one of those blessed with such a talent. I view the world differently than most, in that I can see those magical imprints. They're like force fields around a person, and yours is scarred by blackness."

That wasn't ominous whatsoever. Harry wondered why his life always had to be so foreboding. But he at least understood the principle that Karstark was talking about. He'd seen it in action through Hermione, whose training had opened up the world of magical auras. It was an issue that had been particularly potent around horcruxes, so it made sense for Karstark to experience it in a similar fashion.

"My turn," she remarked casually.

"For what?"

"To ask a question, obviously."

"It's not as if I've got anything better to do."

"I've always yearned for a captive audience and now I've got my wish." She was smiling, but that didn't help Harry figure out whether she was joking or not. "What was he like?"

"Who?"

"Matthew."

Harry straightened his back against the wall. "Why are you so interested in him?"

"It's my turn to ask the questions. Isn't that the point of the game?"

He felt himself growing angrier. Because it wasn't enough that he was locked away. It wasn't enough that he was never going to see his friends and family again. It wasn't even enough that he was going to die, probably very soon. Because, above all that, he'd once again been tormented by Matthew's death. His killer was in the same building, and now Karstark had a strange focus on him.

"No," he said firmly. "Because this isn't a game. You're going to tell me what's going on, or this conversation is done."

The smile fell. "You're brave. I'm the only decent company you've had in a while and you're prepared to throw it away?"

"In a heartbeat."

"Well then…"

Harry was sure that she was going to leave. She was going to stand up, perhaps give him a good kick for his insolence, and then leave him on his own. The door would be closed permanently, with even Malfoy not allowed to see him, and he would wither to the point of starvation. Only then would they think to finish him off.

And yet…

"He's someone who was very close to me," Karstark explained. "And he's the reason why I'm here now. If what you said is true, if Matthew is truly dead, then I can't believe I missed him. After so many years and so much effort…"

Harry scrutinised her more closely and the pieces slowly fell into place. She had a connection to auras, just like Hermione, which was only possible through pure magic. In their first meeting, she'd used that power without a wand, again showcasing her ability in that regard. She had the same demeanour as Matthew, in the way she enjoyed testing him. And, if that wasn't enough, she knew Matthew, with it becoming clear why he'd originally thought she was so familiar. Because he had seen her before. When the locket had conjured up her spectral form, distorting her face so much that it hadn't clicked straight away.

"You're…you're Enola."

Her eyes lit up. "Nice to meet you at last, Harry."

xxxxxxxxxx

Whilst her talk with Ginny had done her some good, that wasn't to say it was enough for Hermione to come completely out of her shell. She still tried to remain as small as possible, hoping that others would pick up on the silent instruction of keeping clear. But she was making progress, small steps that felt more like giant leaps from her perspective. Which was why she found herself in the common room, rather than holing up in her dorm, hoping that the likes of Lavender and Parvati would keep their gossiping to a minimum.

Even so, she was in the far corner of the room, using an essay to distract her. The transfiguration work wasn't due for a fortnight, but it provided an excuse for her to be on her own. And it was good to almost trick herself that things were normal, despite the fact that she didn't have her two boys pestering her with questions about the task, or trying to come up with ways to distract her from said work. The more her quill scratched against the parchment, the more she could believe the delusions.

The tactic wasn't working.

Her permanently closed-off nature meant that she was surprised when someone joined her at the table. Glancing up from the long scroll, Hermione discovered that Neville was apparently the bravest person in Gryffindor, attempting to climb the walls she'd built around herself. The boy still looked understandably nervous, fidgeting with his hands whilst he tried to come up with something to say. Hermione wanted to take pity on him, to initiate the conversation to save him the struggle, but that was proving just as difficult for her to manage.

"I…I didn't think that you should be alone," he eventually said, when her peering gaze had gone on long enough.

"Thank you, Neville," she replied softly. "But I don't think I'm going to be great company. You don't have to talk to me if you don't want to."

"It's not a matter of wanting to. It's about what you need. Because I've been in your position before. There's been plenty of times at Hogwarts where I've been on my own, and I put on a brave face, telling myself that I don't need anyone to feel sorry for me or anything like that. But I'd always secretly wish that someone would come over and, more often than not, they would. I reckon you're in the 'secret wishing' phase, even if you don't want to admit that."

Hermione was slightly taken aback by the sudden firmness in his voice, seeing a different side to the boy than she was used to. And she couldn't ignore the growing sense of guilt that was gnawing away at her following his words. Because she should have noticed whenever Neville was alone. She should have made more of an effort to include him. It had just been so easy to centre herself around the trio she'd been a part of.

And now that trio was no more.

"You must be good at reading people."

Neville shrugged. "I was just able to use past experiences. Not just with being on my own. I know that everyone will say that they sympathise with you, that they know what you're going through. Normally, those are just empty words, the sort of thing that people think they're supposed to say. But I mean it. I've been in your position. I suppose I still am in a way."

Hermione didn't know what to say, feeling her eyes shine. She knew that was just a result of her pent up emotions, the show of affection and support enough to break the dam. Neville looked as if he was building up to something, perhaps the main reason why he'd come over, and so Hermione gave him the space to steady himself. After embracing it for so long, the stretch of silence was almost unnerving.

"15 years ago…my parents were the victims of a Death Eater attack," Neville admitted, looking at the table's surface rather than at her. "One of Voldemort's most loyal supporters, Bellatrix Lestrange, performed the Cruciatus Curse on them both repeatedly. They…they didn't die, but their fate was worse than that. They've been in St Mungo's ever since, unresponsive to all the treatment the best minds have come up with over the years. I…I can see them and visit them…but I'll never be able to talk to them again."

"Oh, Neville," she whispered tearily, reaching over to grab his hands.

"I'm not saying this so that you feel sorry for me. I wanted to know that you're not the only one. You're not on your own. I've lost people I love because of that madman."

"You've never brought it up before…"

"It's not exactly the sort of thing you can raise in passing conversation. And I think you've found out for yourself how difficult it can be to talk about these topics. I didn't want to be known as the student with the comatose parents. That wouldn't be fair to me, and it also wouldn't be fair to their legacy. Because Frank and Alice Longbottom were far more than just Bellatrix's victims."

"Thank you for telling me. I can see that it took a lot of nerves on your part."

"It's been a long time coming. I've been beating myself up, really. Because I should have spoken to you way sooner than this. Not just with Harry. But when Matthew died, I should have comforted you. I should have told you then about what I've been through, because sharing grief is sometimes the only way to lessen its power."

"Bellatrix…she was the one…well, everyone assumes that she was involved in the attack that led to Matthew's death. It's very possible that we've got an enemy in common, Neville."

"Oh, there have been plenty of times where I've thought about killing her. And then she escaped from Azkaban…and then the whole thing with Matthew happened…and I could feel that anger growing. It's not a side of me that I like, frankly. I feel as if she'll win if I resort to her tactics, if I drop to the same level as her."

"I have to admit that I've thought far too much about what I'd do to the people responsible. I think it scares my parents, whenever they've seen glimpses of that anger. Because they want to see me as their little girl, despite the fact that life has made me grow up a lot more. This past week even more so."

"He'll be fine. Harry's made of strong stuff."

"I hope you're right. Sadly, he and Matthew were always the more positive members of our friendship group."

"My gran says that my parents were like that. You know, always smiling despite the war going on, always believing that things would turn out for the best. Sometimes I wonder where they got those spirits from, because my gran isn't exactly the cheeriest person you'll ever meet."

"They sound like great people."

"I wish I could have had the chance to know them properly. From all accounts, they were brave fighters too. That's the reason why Voldemort wanted them out of the picture in the end. They were part of this secret group, a collective effort of resistance fighters refusing to bend to Voldemort's will."

"You know about the Order of the Phoenix?"

"You know about them?"

"Do you really think such a group would exist without Harry finding out? Not to mention that Sirius is a member. I suppose I'm a member, even though I've never been through any formal application process. I'm sure they keep stalling for some reason or another. Life keeps getting in the way. As you can imagine, they've had plenty of distractions over the past year or so."

"I wish I could join. But…I doubt I'd be brave enough to be of much use. That's the one thing that eats away at me, that I haven't been able to continue my parents' legacy of bravery."

"There's still time to change that. And you're brave in your own ways. It's not as if many people have risked dealing with Storm Hermione recently."

He chuckled softly at her limited attempt at levity. "Maybe."

"You got involved with the training sessions, didn't you? That's basically our version of the Order, don't you think? The next generation, carrying on the fight."

"Yeah…well…it's not as if I'm good enough with a wand to be helpful in an actual duel."

"That's exactly the point of the group, to help people reach that stage. Harry's disappearance has put an end to those sessions for the time being, which should be motivation for everyone in this school to want to find him. And soon. They're missing a leader and well…I'm missing a friend."

"Do they still not know who took him? Or where he's being kept?"

"We obviously know who ordered his capture, just not who actually committed the offence. As to where he is…that's still as much of a mystery as ever, I'm afraid."

"It's a shame he's not a plant."

How were you supposed to respond to that? "...it is?"

"Sorry, that must have sounded really weird out of context. I was just thinking about how there's this one magical plant called the Yo'qolgan. It'd almost be impossible to farm because its spores, when they're released, travel thousands of miles away. If it wasn't for this simple incantation, which basically summons the spores because of their innate energy reading, you wouldn't be able to grow them in abundance. Which would be a shame, of course, because their petals are used for medicinal potions, and the roots are super tasty, a proper fine delicacy from what I've heard."

Hermione's eyes lit up, something new growing in her chest. It felt strange and foreign compared to what she'd been experiencing over the past few days, the past week. It was…hope. It had to be that. Her brain burned with the ferocity of the revelation, a plan of action quickly forming in her head. The smile that lit up her face was just as much of a new sensation, her cheeks aching from a lack of use.

"Thank you, Neville! Thank you!"

She got up from her chair, reached across, and planted a quick kiss on his cheek to show her gratitude. The move must have completely flummoxed the boy, with the way his eyes widened, although that likely had something to do with her seemingly odd behaviour and the sudden uptick in her mood. Hermione didn't care, racing away, in such a rush that she didn't even bother to pack her books and parchment away.

"You're…welcome?"

Hermione didn't really know where she was going once she was away from the Gryffindor common room. It wasn't usual for her to be acting without proper forethought, but the giddiness brought about through the idea alone was enough for her to push her typical tendencies to one side. Dumbledore's office felt like the only logical destination, and she charged through the corridors, with that route now being a well travelled one for her.

She was moving at such a pace that she would have left Sirius in her dust if he hadn't repeatedly shouted her name. The curious, bemused glances of her peers hadn't been enough to slow her down, but the presence of Harry's godfather eventually gave her pause. Even so, she was bouncing on the spot once she was standing in front of him, the older man looking at her as if something must have been wrong with her. When it was completely the opposite.

"Ah, Hermione," Sirius said. "Is everything okay? I was actually on my way to see you." He scratched the back of his neck. "I thought it was about time that I discussed the situation with you. You shouldn't be left in the dark, that's not fair, and so…"

"Yes, yes," she interrupted frantically. "But can this be done on the way to see Dumbledore? Because I've figured it out. I know how to find Harry."